


Desert Roses

by Gingernutting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blue au, Car Chases, Gun Usage, Hunk is a tattoo artist, I am not from New Mexico so please correct me on any geographical points!, M/M, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Shiro is Keith's foster brother, Swearing, Tattoos, currently being edited for easy reading and cultural accuracy!, eventual Klance, expect continuity errors and mistakes sorry, explains what a blue is in notes, ill probably edit this later i just cant be bothered editing it now, majorly inspired by Blue and Mad Max
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingernutting/pseuds/Gingernutting
Summary: After three years of solitude in the desert, Keith finds himself being pushed by Life headfirst into depths way out of his comfort zone, involving getting his life saved by three absolute nutcases in a yellow ute (that just may have modifications that Health and Safety would die upon seeing), finding his long lost foster brother unconscious in the middle of the road after almost a decade of no contact, and finding himself a long, long way from home. Keith was good at surviving, but this may just push him to his limits.





	1. The Short End of the Stick

**Author's Note:**

> The Blue au is taken from the novel Blue by Brandy Wehinger (a great read! I would highly recommend it!) So I don't own it in any way! It is a pretty interesting concept, and I wanted to use it for this. What a Blue is gets explained in the fic!

The apocalypse came quietly  
  
Some cried and tried their best to outrun it, others were on their knees with tears in their eyes welcoming 'the second flood'.  
Keith didn't care.  
It was almost a relief, to be honest. A boring retail job, at the same every day, the same old routines, the same time he took the bus home, the same time he got home to stomach some dinner, go to bed, then do it all the next day. It was mundane. He'd often find himself dreaming about being someplace else, living off the grid, maybe in the desert somewhere, all alone, looting and scavenging to survive. It sounded a lot better than the life he had. The day it happened, was like almost every other day, to be honest. He woke up, got ready for work, and was on the way to the bus stop when he saw a small crowd of peculiar people, and every single horror movie he had ever seen played through his head. Keith high tailed it out of there, packed a small backpack with his fold up knife, a firelighter, spare clothes, a few luxuries, long lasting food and water, along with jamming his keys into the ignition of the motorbike he rarely used, speeding off as fast as he could, no idea where he was going, but anywhere was better than here. The apocalypse, you could say, was Keith Kogane’s one-way ticket out of here and into the unknown.

 

They said that it originated in Australia, around the Darwin area, a mutated disease that took over the mind of the host, turning them into mindless zombies fumbling around. When people started to escape the continent by the sea and air, it spread. But not everyone bitten turned into one. Sure, they were rare, but they existed, not exactly living, but not exactly dead either. They called them Blues. People immune to the disease, thanks to a unique set of alleles inherited, their heartbeats slow, their breaths long, but they could go without breathing for minutes at a time, inhuman stamina and only requiring little sleep, ageless from the day they got bitten and probably immortal, their skin tinged with blue, the shade differentiating from each and every person. Many didnt trust them,  
_“How do we know one of 'em ain't gonna just turn around and bite us!?”_  
But many did,  
_“You seem 'em walking around brainless? They talk, they think, they're human!”_  
Many chose to kill them onsite. A blue was in far more danger from humans than any other creature.

 

The apocalypse went quietly

 

That was four or something years ago, he was sure. And boy, was Keith wrong. After speeding down the main motorways into New Mexico, he made it to the deserts. It didn't take long for him to find an abandoned shack smack-bang in the middle of nowhere, sheltered by hills. Keith inspected the place thoroughly; it was run down, holes in the walls and ceiling, with half of the windows cracked. It had a main room, a tiny kitchen crammed off to the side next to a bathroom and tiny bedroom, as well as a water tank, a small veranda, and a pole that was probably once a clothesline. The place had no running water, but he could go out and find his own, no electricity, but he had read enough books to know how to wire a solar panel if he were to get his hands onto one, and there were some small furnishings inside the house, a couch without any cushions on it, a bed without a mattress, and an empty bookshelf on the floor. Within six months, Keith had made a life for himself. The bed frame had a mattress on it, and blankets and pillows courtesy of looting a homeware store and stealing a small trailer he could tie onto his bike. The couch was currently rotting away outside, nothing like robbing a wooden couch frame and a couple of squabs in place of cushions, and the bookshelf had books and other interesting things in it now. Keith’s new best friends were a can opener, a bottle of gas, and a small gas stove. Getting the gas was easier than he thought, all he had to do was raid a few backyard barbeques for a few canisters, and frequent trips into the towns and city for many smaller things. A small patch of shade constructed out of a holey tarpaulin and a planter box made from a broken wooden fence took residence as well, and over time, after trial and error, and countless trips for better soil, tools and seedlings, a small garden had flourished, bringing tomatoes, broccoli and potatoes that provided a small source of food in the summer, so his packaged and canned food could be saved for the winters. Keith had his entire life sorted out, he could live out here for the rest of his days. One thing, he missed shaving, and a small beard began to grow. He convinced himself it was needed as some post-apocalyptic 'aesthetic'.

 

-

 

Keith sighed and scrunched his nose up at how little water there was left in his stores. Only half a bottle, three litres. And from his rationing, about three days left of water, and the middle of the desert, that was a bad thing.  
“Again?”  
A habit of talking to himself caught on. He couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to an actual human being, apart from grunts and yells in the cities, fighting over supplies that sometimes ended in a fist fight. He tried to avoid them as much as possible, and he would prefer to not fight a thirty year old man with a ginger beard and green trenchcoat over toilet paper, but that didn't mean he wasn't good at it. Keith sighed and grabbed his bag, filled with water and his knife as well as a few other things in case he was while, grabbed his motorbike helmet, and set off with a quick goodbye to the house. He wasn't too keen on heading into the cities. Many of the zombies had already died, rotted away with the sun six months after the apocalypse actually happened, so zombies weren't that much of a problem, it was rather the people. It only took six months for civilisation to crumble, and from then on everything was like it was picked out from a Mad Max movie, the people had turned against each other, many forming gangs to commit their crimes, trafficking people for their own amusement, murdering, torturing, and so many other crimes he didn't want to even think about. Unfortunately, a large gang, hundreds of people, had taken residence in the closest city, and Keith knew that he was risking his life by entering everyday. But in times like these, you just had to roll the dice. Sure, he had a few run ins with the gang, who called themselves the Rascals, with their stupid armbands and their patches, screaming out their name as they swarmed in packs around the city in trucks and motorbikes that were probably stolen. He swore he could hear the painful screams from his shack in the desert. Keith gripped the handlebars tighter as the city came into view, swerving and remaining concealed in the narrow crook of two large shipping containers. He would walk his way into the city, the noise of the motorbike attracted too much attention, and stealth here was his greatest ally. Keith tied his crimson bandana tightly around his face, avoiding the dust and sand the was kicked up with the wind. The city of Albuquerque was like a ghost town, buildings barely standing, litter and debris thrown about, and many of the windows were smashed in, graffiti crudely sprayed onto the sides of the buildings, and many of the Rascals had their logo, a dog with crosses for eyes, marked on their territory. Keith avoided the heart of the city, where all the gangs main activity took place. Many old supermarkets and homes still had more than enough of what he needed. Many homes had bottles and tanks of water in their basements. But today seemed reasonably quiet, and he could stray a little further into the buildings, hopefully find something else that could be of use. He pulled his jacket a little closer and pulled the straps of his bag a little tighter, and started to run as soon as the city was close enough. Keith ran, his eyes quickly darting from building to building, old clothes stores and cafes, until he found a supermarket, trolleys lying on their sides, and the automatic doors were smashed in. It was dark, but sunlight filtered through an open side of the building. Almost everything was gone, rotting food and packaging scattered all over the floor. He picked up a couple tins of tuna that the rats had not taken yet. But no water. The backroom, the stockroom...possibly. Keith gulped and stepped as cautiously as he could. The door was closed, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything behind it. Keith gulped, his heart beating quicker in his chest, and he pulled out the knife that rested in his pocket, biting his lip and grasping it to his chest, sliding his back against the wall. Keith held his breath as he lightly pushed the door open. It creaked and echoed, but nothing ran out to grab him. Keith released the breath he was holding and folded back his knife.  
“Okay...you got this.”  
He whispered to himself and stepped in. It was dark, and the room was a lot larger on the inside, with what looked like aisles filled with boxes, as his eyes adjusted. Still taking light steps, Keith padded forward, his posture tense, and a chill ran down his back. His heart was the only thing he could hear. His eyes settled on something translucent, and right on the bottom shelf at the edge of the aisle, there were four large box shaped bottles, all filled with water, they looked dusty, but it was better than nothing. Keith allowed himself to relax his guard a little and he freely walked over, running towards it and he let himself smile at the small victory. They were large, around eight litres each, but he could carry a few. Keith crouched down onto his haunches and with both hands, gripped one bottles and ragged it towards him.  
Keith's good mood wore out when a gun clicked right next to his ear.  
He gulped, trying not to move, he glanced at whoever it was from out of the corner of his eye. A large man, with a shotgun pointed at his head, was staring down at him with cold eyes.  
“Don't you fuckin' move, _punk_ .”  
The man growled. Oh great, he was a Rascal. Keith was a good fighter at least. He held his breath and slowly lowered his hands down to the floor.  
“I said, _don't fuckin' move!”_  
The man boomed, his voice echoing off the walls.  
“Okay.”  
Keith quietly retorted, and in a split second he had turned half of his weight onto his hands, and his leg snapped out to the side, successfully sweeping the man off his feet.  
“ _Fu-"_  
Keith had seconds. He grabbed one bottle and started running, hearing the man groan behind him. Adrenaline flooded his veins and his body screamed at him to run, straight for the door. Just as he finally reached it, a lone shot cracked the air next to his ear. _Too close_ . Keith hissed and heaved the door closed with one hand, and his feet skidded across the linoleum floor, and he propelled himself through the exit. His heart dropped and his eyes widened as he heard the excited menacing yells of the Rascal gang, their loud whoops and yells, and the growls of engines, coming from both sides of the intersection. If he went back, the other rascal would have his guts, if he stayed where he was, many others would have his guts. Keith hissed a breath and rushed forwards, his feet smashing the ground beneath him, and the engines and yelling grew faster and closer. He could even hear them.  
“Oh we got ourselves a runnar!”  
“Get the lil' shit!”  
The roads were twisting and winding, and were filled with potholes, but their trucks could cope, he could barely. Keith gasped for breath, eyes darting left and right, never behind, as the looked for a means of escape. An alleyway with a mesh metal fence, around three metres tall, at the end was his best bet. Keith squinted his eyes and his boots skidded along the concrete, his hand briefly skimming the ground, and he changed direction with a lurch, dashing for the fence. Keith took longer strides and sprung himself forwards into a leap, wire digging into his fingers, the bottle still clutched in his arm, and he heaved himself up, kicking himself off and sprinting forwards, going wherever the alleyway went. It took a sharp turn to the right, and he sprinted between the two buildings, a few more exits blurring past him, but it took a turn for the worst as the yelling and the engines rumbled close to the other end.  
“Ha ha! We got 'im! _We got 'im_ !”  
The voices cheered, and his blood ran dry. The exits. He turned back and as he ran, a pair of arms snatched him and dragged him around a corner, using his own momentum to the strangers benefit. Keith cried out but a hand slapped onto his mouth.  
“Shhhh...don't worry.”  
The stranger's low voice for some reason silenced him. Whoever he was leaning against was strong, and wearing a green jacket, crouched down and hiding Keith from view, long until the voices and the engines were past. A gun clicked once, and the stranger sprang back up, grasping Keith's hand tightly.  
“C'mon, you wanna live or not!?”  
The stranger hissed, and turned towards him, he had his thin brows furrowed, deep blue eyes that took Keith by surprise, and there was an insane grin on his face, like he was actually _enjoying_ this. And he had blue tinged skin. The stranger pulled Keith to his feet, dashing with two double barreled pistols in his hands, and in the distance, growing louder, eighties pop music, of all things, was playing. Was he fucking crazy!?  
“C'mon!”  
The stranger ran out just as the music was getting louder, pulling Keith with him, and a large yellow ute, the one with the weird music, pulled up in front of them with a screech, the smell of burning rubber made Keith cringe.  
“Lance! GET THE FUCK IN!”  
A woman yelled at the stranger, now Lance, and swung the back doors open for them. Lance pulled an awestruck Keith in with him, slamming the door shut, the water bottle at his feet, and the ute sped up again.

“Okay, _what in the actual fuck is goin' on!?_ ”  
Keith cried out at Lance. Just a minute ago, he was running away from a gang. Now, he was sprawled in the backseat of some musty yellow ute, with two other people, _and a blue._  
“What do you think we're doin'!? We're getting outta here!”  
Lance yelled back, and a shot to the back of the ute made them both duck their heads down.  
“Uh guys? Not sure if you noticed, but we got company!”  
The big polynesian man driving the ute frantically glanced up at them through the rear vision mirror.  
“I got this, Lance, open the window, duck!”  
Lance slid the strip of window above them open, and they ducked down, as the small woman in the front, with blondish-brown hair, wearing oversize glasses, pulled out a shotgun and swung herself back, the barrel resting on the seat, aiming for the trucks behind her. Keith couldn't see, but she smiled and pulled the trigger, and the sound of something huge swerving with an explosion following made her whoop in victory.  
“Aw yes! Got 'em!”  
“Oh, nice one Pidge!”  
She smirked and shifted back around, fist bumping the man driving.  
“Wait, I didnt get your name, I'm Lance, the four-foot-eleven badass is Pidge, and the legend driving is Hunk, you are?”  
Keith couldnt deal with this.  
“Y-you're a blue.”  
He stammered, staring at Lance.  
“And water is wet, you are?”  
Lance smiled and held out a blue tinged hand. Keith smiled and took it. He should be grateful, otherwise he's be in some prisoner pen right now.  
“Keith, Keith Kogane.”  
“Nice name, suits you.”  
Lance winked. Lance had a slim long face, with freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks and what he was sure used to be tanned skin. His chestnut brown hair was whipped into shape by the wind, and he looked to be around twenty. Lance's green jacket was dusty, and he had jeans rolled up to his calves, showing half of what appeared to be a tattoo of a lion on his right calf, the baby and powder blue colours inked on the lion was lighter than his skin, and it had yellow eyes and pearly white teeth bared, contrasting nicely with Lances Lapis Lazuli blue skin. Keith looked drastically different, jet black hair greasy and grown out into an awkward mullet, and pale skin from his Korean genes, with dark eyes that almost appeared violet in some light, with a few scars along his legs and arms from scuffles with gang run-ins. Keith studied Pidge closely. Pidge was small, snow-white skin with a few freckles on her nose and arms, just like Lance, and she had an androgynous face. She had many rose gold rings with various green stones and a necklace, a rose gold chain with a bullet of peridot hanging from the end, her glasses were round and oversized, and she also had a lion tattoo in the same style as Lance's, just in shades of forest green and whites, the same yellow eyes, but with a gentler looking face and in a different pose, and it was on her left forearm. She was small, looked to be around sixteen, but Keith's gut warned him not to mess with her. He couldn't get a good look at Hunk, but he seemed to be the most friendly, his shaggy black hair was tied with an orange band, and he had dark skin like cedarwood. A bone necklace, in the shape of a hook on plaited cord, was dangling from this neck, that was yellowed with age, and what he saw of his face was thick brows and light brown eyes. He expected Hunk to have a lion tattoo on his body somewhere, following the pattern of Pidge and Lance. Hunk also looked to be the eldest, if anything, he looked to be around twenty-five or twenty-six. An intricate tattoo was spread down to the middle of his bicep and appeared to spread over to his shoulder, bands upon bands of patterns, a beautiful tribal tattoo.  
“Keith, Keith, did you just hear me?”  
Lance waved a hand in front of Keith's face.  
“Sorry, repeat that?”  
Lance sighed and rolled his shoulders.  
“What brought you into the city? I don't think we've seen you around here before?”  
“Oh, that...I was lookin' for supplies when-JESUS CHR-!”  
Keith was snapped back into the seat, as Hunk slammed on the brakes. A man was lying in the middle of the road, his clothes completely shredded, pale skin showing through. Keith leaned forwards to see who it was, and everything around him seemed to slow down. Without thinking, Keith kicked open the door of the ute and rushed out towards him, Lance following him afterwards.  
“Shiro!?”  
Keith couldn't believe it, after all this time.  
“Wait you know him too!?”  
Lance stared at Keith with disbelief. The rumbling in the background grew louder and louder. They locked eye contact and both bent down to help up the tattered man, who groaned with the movement.  
“Get 'im in! There's no much time!”  
Lance seemed to lift Shiro with ease, just like Keith, and they ran as much as they could back up to the ute, dragging him in, his arms around their shoulders, limply seated between them, his head hanging forward, his white lick of hair covering most of his face.  
“Drive! Drive! Drive!”  
Pidge shouted out as Hunk slammed his foot on the floor again. Shiro didn't even look alive, one of his arms was amputated up to the middle of his bicep, with a prosthetic limb in place, around Keith's shoulders. It was bad alright, a strong smell of blood smacked Keith right in the nostrils, and Lance had a look of panic on his face, but he regarded Keith with suspicious eyes  
“Wait, how do _you_ know Shiro?”     
Keith held his chapped lips in a tight line.  
“Long story, I'll tell you later, how do _you_ know him?”  
“Well, he was associated with Pidge, and we all knew him, he was like this second dad to her, old family friend from a while back, we all knew him pretty well. Shiro, and Pidge's dad and older bro were this sorta group, they were scientists, he was the pilot, takin' 'em places and stuff. When this whole shitstorm happened, they were away, and they didn't come back. Cue us finding him three years later and the rest is history.”  
Keith stole a look at Pidge, who looked shaken and was deathly still.  
“Okay, a while back, him and his mother were my foster family for a while, when I was like nine years old I moved in, and was taken out at sixteen. I knew them for that time.”  
No, it was a lot more deeper than that. Keith was barely making an outline of it. Shiro wasn't just his foster brother, they both saw each other as brothers, and Keith loved Shiro's mother, even called her 'mum' quite a lot, just like Shiro. Shiro was always there for him, defending him, helping him grow and come out of his broody shell, and it broke Keith's heart when someone took an interest in adopting him and he was forced away from the home. Needless to say, he wasn't adopted for very long, and he was shoved back into another foster home less than a month later.  
“Hold on!”  
Hunk hissed as Pidge fiddled with a few things on the dashboard, and at a second take, it was very high tech, like the ute had been modified to their liking.  
“Mama's gonna gas this thing!”  
Pidge grinned back at them, a mischievous look in her eye, and she punched a large green button on the dashboard, and Keith couldn't even yell as a loud whirring sound filled his ears and he felt heat gather on the back of his head, and it felt like he was dropped from a cliff, his gut twisting and his body lurched back. The ute? It was like a goddamned rocket. The blast crackled and filled his ears as the buildings blurred so fast they thought they were gonna crash, his teeth gritted together and his fist clenching the side of his seat until he thought he felt a nail crack. Too fast, _too fast._ The buildings suddenly disappeared and they were rocketing along the dirt road, red dust flaring up around them, and terror gripped his heart. That's it. These guys were all fucking cracked in the head. Lance was screaming with delight as the speed increased, and the g-forces made his hair whip and float all around him. The rumbling of the cars behind them was non-existent, and they sped for what felt like forever, buildings turned into desert, and the sun burned from behind them. Finally, they were free.

And Keith was a long way from home.

  
Eventually, long after the rocket in the ute back had died down, and the sky had turned into a painting of golds, oranges and reds as the sun sunk below the horizon, did they finally stop, outside a house, completely sheltered from view by the trees, bush and hills. Wherever they were, it was far away from Keith's shack in the desert, more than a half-day's ride away, at more than 500 kilometres an hour, a half days trip filled with eighties pop music and a lot of rock and roll. During that time, Keith and Lance made awkward conversation. Keith asked Lance about what it was like being a Blue. Turned out he was Keith's age of twenty-five, but he got bitten back when he was twenty. Lance was from Cuba, and he enjoyed swimming, music, and talking. A lot of talking. Keith told Lance about himself, only because it was a fair trade, and that he liked the quiet, motorbikes, and being self-sufficient (“Wow, you're more emo than I thought.”) Keith already decided that it was gonna take a while for him and Lance to get along, after all, Keith was quiet and independent, Lance was loud and seemed like the kinda guy who would latch onto you for months at a time. At least Hunk and Pidge were the type of people he could get along with. And Shiro was here, Keith had Shiro with him too, so at least wouldn't be as socially isolated, that, and he was secretly overjoyed that he was back. The house seemed reasonably modern, probably built around the seventies, and it looked well-kept. Cream coloured paint was blistering on the bottom, and it also had a veranda, with a lavender couch covered in red dust next to the door. It was similar to Keith's own shack in many aspects, which took him by surprise, such as the corrugated iron water tank and metal clothesline, complete with a small fruit garden out the front. When they stopped outside, the car sputtering to a stop, there was no stopping, as they helped Keith and Lance drag Shiro's limp body out.  
“Jesus christ, could he get any heavier?”  
Lance joked, Pidge running up to get the door, holding it open as the boys carried him in as carefully as they could, putting him on the couch, all of them weren't level headed, bickering about what they should do. Keith rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.  
“You idiots got any first aid box or somethin'? Because that would be a great start.”  
Hunk nodded and ducked into the kitchen, coming out a minute later with a bottle of pure alcohol, some gauze, sticky tape and some cotton pads.  
“We don't have much, but this should do.”  
Hunk crouched down next to his unconscious body and peeled what was left of his grey shirt up, and Keith almost gagged at the sight, scars snaked all across his back, and many gashes along the skin were raw and open, blood clotting in the wound. The smell was unbearable. Hunk made a face and doused his hands in some of the liquid, then on the cotton pad, pressing it against the raw flesh.  
“Someone, get some water!”  
He called out, and Lance raced into the kitchen, coming back with a small bottle.  
“Okay, just clean some o' the' blood off, I need a clear view of this.”  
Hunks voice took on a more serious tone as he concentrated, pressing the damp cotton, clearing out the dirt and grime. Keith looked away, clenching his eyes shut, feeling light headed and sick to the stomach at the sight of someone he cared about so torn apart like that.  
“Pidge, you help me, Lance, help Keith.”  
Lance seemed to hesitate, then handed the bowl and cotton over to Pidge, and Lance guided Keith out from the room, and into a smaller one, with a bed covered in a green and red plaid woolen blanket and a bookshelf filled with random objects and trinkets, and a lot of skin care products.  
“Keith, you okay?”  
Lance sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Keith with him. Keith felt sick. So much had happened today; he almost died, could have been taken prisoner and had whatever they had done to Shiro done to him, he was saved by a Blue and a random group of people, seen his long-lost foster brother for the first time in goddamned years, only for him to be lying unconscious in the middle of a dirt road, and now he was in some unfamiliar place, being comforted by a Blue while he was struggling not to lose it. Keith kept his mouth shut.  
“Long day? It happens.”  
Lance smiled softly and held Keith's calloused hand in his own smooth blue ones.  
“I know, it's crazy, all of this, but on the bright side, you're with us instead of the rascals, trust me, we're all nuts, but not as nuts as they are. They're all murderers, sadists, rapists...and we all like listening to Toto and Mike Krol. I don't blame ya if you need some space.”  
Keith didn't even know Lance, and yet, Lance was being so nice to him.  
“Some space would be nice, thanks.”  
Keith spat, but he didn't mean for the words to come out as harshly as they did. Lance still had that smile on his face, rubbing the back of Keith's hand with his thumb.  
“Okay, we'll be outside.”  
Lance got up and winked at him, of all things. Keith didn't smile back, staring at the ground, trying to block out the sounds of the others increasingly panicked bickering, and Shiro occasionally groaning and hissing in pain. He couldn't block any of it, and curled up into a ball. But Keith was a survivor, he bad adapted to so many things and environments, one of the reasons he managed to last all alone out in the desert for three years. And suddenly being pushed by Life headfirst into a place way out of his comfort zone, he was going to survive, he was going to adapt. He just needed some space first.


	2. Jasper Pools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith finds himself easing more and more into this strange new world.

 

God, Keith felt awful. What had he done? He had mooched off strangers hospitality, and didn't even help them clean up his own foster brother.  _ Ungrateful idiot,  _ he told himself. The bed was comfy enough, someone had even pulled the blanket up over his curled up form and opened the window, a nice little breeze drifting in. Keith stretched his entire body out and got up, gently opening the door, which creaked a little bit. It was quiet, and sunlight was casting soft orange rays onto the lounge room. Lance and Pidge were resting against each other, a crocheted blanket resting on their laps, but Lance was curled up into Pidge's side, a closed laptop covered in stickers on the mahogany coffee table in front of them. They even had electricity here. Shiro was on the other couch, his once raw and bleeding back bandaged up with cotton and gauze. He was so still, if it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his back, he would have looked dead. He had changed so much since Keith last saw him, back when he was still an awkward teenager. Shiro had definitely gained more muscle, and he had looked a lot more matured, a pale pink scar ran across his nose and cheeks, and a large clump of white hair hung down over his eyes. It didn't look like it was dyed, he must have gone grey early, either that, or he had read somewhere that constant stress and anxiety can turn hair white. Keith didn't want to think about that. The front door was open, the sun peeking out from over the horizon. Keith sighed and decided to head outside, feeling the sun on his face. From the veranda, he could take a better look at the place, the small garden that was sprouted nicely with vines and leaves. The yellow ute, brown mud and dust caked along the sides of it, with the word 'Lions' sprayed on the side. A chrome set of bullbars was mounted on the front, and what looked like a large scrap metal rocket as also mounted in the boot. That thing almost turned them into a moving bomb yesterday, but it saved their lives. A set of large shells was even hanging from the rear view mirror. And the house was surrounded in what felt like a bowl of mountains, and they were right in the middle of it. Solar panels were tilted towards the sun, wires running under the house.    
“Hey.”   
Keith jumped a little, he didn't even realise that Hunk was sitting on the couch, his fingers still with a crimson sheen to them, his arms resting on the back of the couch. From here, Keith could see that he also had a lion tattoo, but his was yellow, large with a jutted jaw, and it was expertly inked onto his left calf.   
“Hey.”   
Hunk smiled lopsidedly and shuffled over, patting the space next to him and keith felt obliged to sit.   
“You guys have really made it for yourselves out here, huh?”   
“Yeah, took a while, but we did it. That, and Pidge would go insane without electricity.”   
Keith laughed softly at that.   
“So how did you guys actually all meet?”   
“Me and Lance are friends from a long way back, barely kids actually. Pidge came into our lives when we were around eleven, she was a lot younger than us, but that didn't matter. Her dad and Shiro were friends, also with a huge age gap between them, but that was how we knew Shiro. Shiro was actually there when Pidge was born, they were both in the waiting room, according to her dad, he cried when he held her. Don't blame him to be honest, Shiro was, like, almost an adult, and Pidge's dad was...I dunno, older.”   
Keith did remember, that Shiro did have a friend, he vaguely remembered a face, shaking a hand, but he went up to his room, new people weren't exactly his forte. Shit, that must have been Pidge's dad. Keith felt embarrassed, thinking that Pidge's dad was a friend of Shiro's mother. They were all a lot closer than they thought. Shiro was thirty or thirty one, if he had been counting the years right, and Keith was twenty five. God, how did all of this fit? Pidge's dad must have been in his late thirties, or early forties.   
“Wait, Pidge has a brother?”   
“Yeah, his name's Matt. he was also quite close to Shiro and her. Shiro was like an extra sibling to them.”   
“God, this is confusin', how old was Pidge's father when he was born?”   
“Well, she never told me that, early twenties I think, he's a handful of years older than her.”   
Pidge's dad must have been Shiro's tutor or something, jesus christ. Keith changed the subject.   
“Those tattoos you guys have, who did them?”   
Hunk looked like he was swelling with pride.   
“I did! Shiro also had a lion, but it was black, and on his back, unfortunately it's gone now, but I'll be able to another.”   
“So you were self taught?”   
“Well, I've been drawing my whole life. Wasn't until high school did I need a job, and I ended up getting an apprenticeship at this tattoo parlour. Pidge and Lance were better practise than tattooing onto a grapefruit, that's for sure! I got my lion first, Lance liked it and on impulse begged me to do one on him. I did Shiro next, changing it up a bit though, and I did it in blacks. We told Pidge that she'd have to wait, but then the whole zombie thing came around and we thought 'fuck it, we might be dead tomorrow' and I got her done right here on this couch.”   
He could imagine Pidge using the apocalypse as an excuse, sticking out her arm at every chance she got.   
“Tell me about Lance.”   
Hunk looked at Keith from the corner of his eye.   
“Why is he so nice to me?”   
Hunk smiled lopsidedly.   
“That's just Lance, he's loud, overly friendly, and he's the best friend I've got. It was funny, we met at like five years old, I was the shy kid in class, and he was the first kid to sit next to me and introduce himself. The rest is history, pretty much. We were at each other's houses almost every day, drawing together, watching cartoons and the usual. Not much changed, really. We still do.”   
Hunk sighed deeply and closed his eyes.   
“When he got bit, me and Pidge were there. Saw the thing bite into his shoulder, and I smashed its fuckin' head open. We were a mess, covered in blood, cryin', all we knew was that we were about to lose our friend. We decided to wait with him until he turned, keepin' a safe distance, of course. It took hours, hours of talkin' and sayin' what we loved about each other, but he never turned, instead his skin, over those hours, turned this deep blue. We still stayed with each other, but he kept his distance for weeks and locked himself up inside his room, just in case, talkin', singin', bringin' him food. It took ages for him to come out, but when he did, man, it was like the sun comin' out. He may have been a blue, but our friend was back.”

Lance was a blue, and yet his friends still loved him. It must be nice having friends like that. Keith had only come across two blues before, one was a young woman crying and sobbing over what remained of her baby, holding the blood mangled corpse in her arms. Keith didn't sleep well that night. The other time was when he was in the city, on a supply hunt, he had a near miss with the Rascals, they gunned an elderly blues' arm right off, he heard him howl in pain as they rounded him up in a truck and took him to the middle of their city. Keith learnt that day that the rascals were people he should avoid. Blues always fascinated him with their blue skin, like they should be out of an old Daft Punk video. Lance fascinated him, deep blue skin, with even deeper blue freckles, that matched his eyes. And Keith wanted to know why Lance rescued him without a second thought.   
“Keith, I know you're thinkin'. The thing about Lance is that his kindness is unconditional, it got him into a lot of trouble, being kind to strangers, but he never stopped doin' it.”   
The door creaked open next to them, and speak of the devil, Lance was stretching his arms up and over his head, his long sleeved shirt riding up his torso.   
“Mornin' Hunk, mornin' mullet.”   
He greeted. Hunk waved, Keith rolled his eyes at the nickname. Wasn't like he could magically control how his hair grew out.   
“Pidge up?”   
“Yeah, she's making coffee, you want some?”   
Hunk shot Lance a look, communicating in a way that only they seemed to understand.   
“Gotcha, and mullet?”   
It had been ages since Keith had coffee, and he suddenly realised just how much he missed it.   
“You got any milk with it?”   
“Powdered milk. Funny, you seemed like the kinda guy who would drink it straight up black.”   
God, it hadn't even two minutes, and Lance was already cracking jokes about him.   
“I'll have that, with two sugars please.”   
Lance shrugged and walked backwards through the door.   
“Is he like that with everyone?”   
“Nah, just the ones he either likes or really hates. Yes, even Lances hates some people.”   
  


Keith had to admit, coffee was one luxury he really missed, so many memories flashing through his head at the smell and taste. Hunk seemed like a nice guy, so that was two people he confirmed that he could get along with. Lance was in the kitchen, singing in a language that sounded like spanish as he cooked baked beans and what smelt like spam in a frying pan. Compared to him, these guys had a lot, an entire room filled with food, in fact. Lance only cooked breakfast once a week, but Keith was their guest, and he insisted, saying that his mother 'wouldnt let him hear the end of it if he wasn't hospitable enough'. The smell of cooked meat made Keith's mouth water, and never before had cooked mystery meat and baked beans in a bowl looked so good.   
“Thanks for cookin', Lance.”   
“No problem!”   
They didn't have a dining table so they all ate off their knees sitting around the lounge room, letting Shiro sleep on the other couch. The room had peeling wallpaper, with a few paintings and photographs hung up with pins around the room. Keith recognised many of the paintings, and he suspected they may have been stolen from an art gallery. The three couches around the coffee table were all different, one was tan leather, the one that Shiro was resting on was a red one with floral patterns, and the other one was a lavender colour, almost exactly the same as the one outside. The coffee table was rectangular, and had a few old magazines on it (National Geographic's and Science Weekly) and an old grey Playstation was resting on it, the wires all wrapped up. Hell, these guys even had a tv, with a hard-drive plugged into the side, it wasn't flash or that big, but they also seemed to have a lot of movies. Action and sci-fi, with a lot of cartoons, all neatly stacked in a shelf next to some board games, potted cactuses and wires all bundled up in plastic bags. It was quite domestic, Keith thought, but comfortable. And it was like the White House compared to his shack, he thought bitterly. These guys obviously worked very hard to get this place looking nice, then he comes along and makes himself at home. They ate quietly, and Lance took their dishes when they were done.   
“Wanna tour of the house?”   
Keith didn't even get to reply before Lance had taken his hand and was dragging him down the hallway, Pidge yelling out 'lovebirds!' after them.   
“Okay, this is Pidge's room, one rule, don't touch her shit, or she will hit you.”   
Pidges room was large, and was very messy, bowls and cables and paper lying all over the ground. Her bed was a bunk, the top one had no mattress and she slept on the bottom, with it being unmade and the cream coloured sheets tossed around, and posters and prints of aliens and conspiracy theory stuff were pinned to the wall with thumbtacks. When Keith spotted a photograph of the Dyatlov Pass incident, he knew he had something to talk about with her, he too dabbled in conspiracy theories, and he didn't just lose two nights of sleep a few years ago studying the Dyatlov pass incident instead of  _ actually  _ studying. Lance opened up another door.   
“This is Hunk's room, you could crawl into bed with him in the middle of the night and he wouldn't mind much. I do it a lot.”   
Hunk's room felt warm, and lived in. It was tidier than Pidge's, and he had a double bed with a warm yellow and red crocheted blanket spread over it, and it was made neatly. The floor had wooden boards, unlike Pidge's room that had marble grey carpet, and a bookshelf filled with books and electronic equipment. A chest of drawers, made of deep brown oak with intricate patterns on the wood, had old photographs on it, with Hunk and his friends, but also people who must have been his family. Keith only knew what having a family was like for a short time, and he sorta wished that he had one for a lot longer, as it felt nice being able to feel like you belong somewhere. The walls were a funny off-white colour, and there were many doodles done in sharpie and pencil on the walls, intricate drawings and patterns, including the lions, only there were five of them, including a red one that Keith felt drawn to. It was in the same style as the other lions, with yellow eyes and pearl white and charcoal markings, a spot of blue on the top of its head and around the fur on the sides of its face, black markings under its eyes like thick eyeliner, the deep crimson of its fur the same as the colour on his jacket, coincidentally.   
 “Movin' on?”   
Lance asked, sucking on his bottom lip, fingers tapping on the wooden door. Keith nodded and followed him out, to where he presented an already open door.   
“Behold the bathroom, we got the toilet to flush, but the shower has only cold water, if you can survive it.”   
The bathroom reminded him of something of hispanic design, the tiles reaching halfway up the walls, with small pale pink flowers painted onto the tiles, with a wooden trim at the top, and a colour that could only be described as moonlight touching the ceiling. A large mirror was over a very basic vanity.   
“You guys renovated this?”   
“Yep! It took a while, but it was so worth it!”   
It was elegant, and Keith was surprised that it was a part of the same house.   
“Movin' on?”   
There wasn't much else, one of the bedrooms was converted into a food storage, another was bare apart from a double mattress on the ground, and there were six bedrooms in total.   
“Last, not definitely not least, my room. You're already familiar with it though, you slept in my bed last night!”   
Lance opened the door with an air of pride, and Keith looked at it a little differently this time. He noticed the photographs on the walls, of people who looked like Lance's family, a wardrobe in the side of the room with clothes neatly folded or hung up in colour order. Lance had a thing for neatness in his room, Keith almost felt bad about leaving the bed unmade. The bed wasn't quite a double, but it wasn't quite a single either, but two people could fit onto it easily. It was a nice house, Keith decided. He was snapped back to reality when he got back into the loungeroom. It was almost surreal, being shown around someone else's house.    
“You've...got a nice place here, really.”   
Lance patted him on the back.   
“What's your place like?”   
Keith had to think about his choice of words.   
“It's a shithole, but it's nice. It's a shack in the middle of nowhere”   
“Just like us, right?”   
“I guess.”   
Keith was already starting to miss his motorbike, it was probably taken by now. Things like that didn't last long, even if it was a kilometre and a half away from the city. What if his shack was also robbed? It wouldn't be unlikely. A small pang at the bottom of his ached a little, he worked hard on that shack, and it would be a disappointment if he came back to find it trashed and destroyed. But this place was nice for now, he was thankful that of all places he could have ended up, he ended up here, with people nice enough to help him get back on his feet.    
“Well, I'm goin' swimmin', you guys interested?”   
Pidge was tapping away on her laptop, she didn't even look up at them.   
“Period. Also someone has to be here when Shiro wakes up.”   
“Alright, how long has he got anyway?”   
“I dunno, he went through a lot, and he's gotta heal. Should be a while.”   
Lance nodded in understanding. Keith only wanted to look at his foster brother when he was finally awake, it made him sick seeing him in his current state.   
“Hunk?”   
Hunk was outside, up to his elbows in grease, on the back of the ute making some repairs to the rocket.   
“You were sayin'?”   
Keith thought he looked pretty busy.   
“Nevermind!”   
Oh god, Lance then turned to him.   
“Wanna come? There's this swimming hole not that far from here.”   
A mixed feeling of dread and excitement settled in his gut. It had been ages since he went for a swim, felt the water in his hair and the bubbles dance in front of his eyes.   
“I got some swimmers you can borrow, unless you're into skinny dippin'.”   
Lance grinned and chuckled, tapping Keith on the nose playfully. Keith rolled his eyes and followed Lance back into his room, where Lance was going through the wardrobe, and threw a baby blue towel and a pair of boardshorts, white with a panel of red on the side, at his face.   
“You're similar to me, those should fit ya.”   
Lance himself had a green towel and himself a pair of boardshorts, that were a lot shorter and were black covered in purple flowers.   
“Seriously?”   
Keith snorted, trying not to smile.   
“They're good, believe me. And you need sunscreen.”   
“Why, exactly?”   
“You look like Snow White had a secret Korean brother, you'll burn into a crisp out there.”   
“And how are you different?”   
“Dude, I was  _ born  _ into the sun! Wait, actually, it was in my ma's house, near Varadero beach, but that's basically the same thing!”   
Lance pouted and went looking for some sunscreen in his drawers, and Keith noted that even with his claims, he had a bottle of sunscreen and far too much lip balm. Did blues even get sunburnt? They didn't age at all, so why should the sun have an affect on that? Keith caught the tube that Lance threw at his face, and shoved it into his pocket with a grumble.   
“Dudes, take protection.”   
Did she really say that? Keith groaned, he barely knew Lance! And already Pidge was making lewd suggestions!?   
“Oh, thanks Pidge!”   
Keith exhaled deeply and rubbed the side of his face.   
“Okay, let's go!”   
Lance strided in front of his, towel over his shoulder, and what was clearly a small pistol in his pocket. Oh. Keith felt himself flush a little with embarrassment. If the others noticed, they didn't say. He gulped and followed Lance out the door, and he took a sharp turn left, behind the house, and walked in a straight line, Keith by his side.   
“This swimmin' hole? It's great, it's a couple of metres deep at the deepest point, and it's quite secluded, you wouldn't believe where it is!”   
When they were at the foot of a red hill, many actually that seemed to it form a ridged spine rising up high above them from the ground, that looked like it was made entirely from red stone, scraggly bushes, bare trees and cactus sprouting papery pink flowers were digging their roots into the crumbly ground. The hill was quite steep, almost vertical, and Lance took no shame in dropping on all fours to climb it, digging his fingering into the dirt, his lapis blue hands becoming flecked with the red dust.   
“Trust me on this one, you take one step forward, you slide two back.”   
Lance was already a while away from where Keith was standing, awkwardly staring at his lithe form climbing the rock.   
“I'll take your word for it.”   
Lance smirked down at him.   
“What, can't get your hands dirty, pretty boy?”   
A challenge, hm? Good thing Keith had the upper body strength to push himself up quickly, until he had caught up to Lance, and they were climbing up the red jagged hills side by side, until his fingers managed to grip around the rock and he could heave himself up to a clearing. It was like a little oasis, a small bowl hidden from view, where the ridges met, and they were at the very top of the spine. A few trees and cactuses sprouted from the ground, and a retro looking pool was built above the ground, the water clear as glass. The tiles were a pastel blue, and the pool overlooked the valley, across the house, and he could even see the desert from the other side of it, stretching out vast and endless.   
“Wow.”   
Keith breathed.   
“Pretty cool, right?”   
Lance climbed up next to him and swung his legs around the side, kicking off his shoes and walking over to the pool to dip a finger in. The pool was inviting, especially here in the desert, why it was up here of all places he had no idea, but he wasn't complaining. Lance peered over his shoulder at Keith, still looking dumbstruck. Keith was honestly expecting a hole in the ground, and nothing more.   
“Ground control to major Keith, come on!”   
Keith dragged himself up and threw the shorts and towel on the ground, when Lance furrowed his brows at him and glanced at the sunscreen, he huffed and pulled his black shirt off and slathered some on his face and shoulders, which seemed to please him.   
“How is it?”   
Keith leaned over next to Lance, letting his fingers slip into the water. It was cool, a refreshing sort of cool, a relief compared to the muggy weather.   
“Last one in gets the burnt potato tonight!”   
Lance yelled out and pulled off his shirt, wrapping the towel around his waist and facing away from Keith.   
“Huh?”   
The mullet man questioned, also turning away and copying Lance, he still had some modesty.   
“You're stayin' tonight, right?”   
To be truthful, he hadn't even thought about it, he just go so swept up in all of this, that the thought of  _ when _ he should be heading home didn't even occur to him.   
“No worries, stay as long as you want, we all like you here, y'know?”   
That hit the nail on the head for Keith. They actually liked him here? He wasn't a burden? He had only been here for a day, and yet they already made up their minds about him. He felt touched, really, considering that in nearly all the foster homes and families he was shoved into, they all welcomed him in, then wanted him out an hour later. That these guys, complete strangers with no backstory or history of him whatsoever (mainly police records of disobedience, violence and aggressiveness), actually welcomed him into their home. It struck a chord with him, and made him feel warm. He smiled and continued getting dressed, the shorts managed to fit him, sitting a little above his hips, before draping the towel on the rock and jumping onto the side of the pool, slowly letting his feet drag in, a shiver running up his spine as he slipped right in. The water was up to his waist, and with every step he took, it crept up a little closer. Lance was slightly taller than him, and it showed when they were standing side by side in the water.   
“Think fast!”   
Lance yelled into his ear and splashed his face, propelling off the bottom of the pool and kicking over to the deeper end. Keith couldn't even be mad. He smirked and splashed back at him, getting a small wave of water on Lance's hair. Lance's skin seemed to melt into the water, blue and blue, seamlessly, when he swam, Keith couldn't even tell where he began or where he ended, like him and the water were one being. It was fascinating. He didn't even realise he was completely zoned out.   
“Earth to Keith, Earth to Keith, I know I'm good lookin', but no hands on the merchandise!”   
What an idiot.    
“Good thing I'm not broke!”   
Keith bot back and splashed again at Lance, who laughed and flopped back into the water.   
“Tsunami!”   
He yelled out, and then his feet came up, Keith just splattered with water, to the point where his hair was starting to drip. Wet hair felt nice for once.   
“Dude, okay, I'm gettin' worried you have heatstroke or somethin', or you zone out a lot.”   
Lance swam over next to him, a hand gripping Keith's shoulder, a funny looking smile on his face.   
“Yeah, jus' happy, that's all.”   
Lance's stupid grin grew wider, if that was even possible, to where his eyes were crinkling at the corners.   
“There we go!”   
He booped Keith's nose with a finger and lazily drifted to the side of the pool, folding his arms and resting them on the edge. Keith found his eyes wandering; Lance's blue skin appeared other-worldly coated in a thin sheen of water, and the freckles that dusted his face were spread over his back as well, a few dark blue moles popping up there and there like the spots on a dog. He was lithe and slim, with a fair bit of muscle along his form, from what seemed like years of swimming and sports. Keith found himself as well with his arms on the poolside, his shoulder brushing against Lance's, staring down at the house and valley. The desert had this remarkable beauty to it, endless red that stretched as far as the eye could see, and the lightest shade of blue as the sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds that rode the wind to the sea.   
“Wish we had some margaritas up here, that would've made this moment perfect.”   
Lance bowed his head and chuckled, and it was infectious, until even Keith was smiling until his eyes squinted, and they were in a comfortable silence.   
“How did you even know this place was up here?”   
Keith broke the silence.   
“I didn't! That's the funny part, me and the others were lookin' around these hills, just lookin' for anything that could be of use, I guess, not long after we found the house, and guess what Hunk finds? Filled with murky water and dead trees. There honestly isn't that much to do out here, and the city...well, you know what the city's like, so it became our small labour of love, after we got the house into shape. We all spent ages up here, buckets and buckets filled with water, clearin' it out, cleanin' the tiles, filterin' as much of the water back in as we could. It was nice, not hangin' around bored. It payed off really well.”   
Lance had this look of pure bliss on his face, as if he was seeing those memories right in front of him. The tiniest of smiles was visible on his face. Then he jumped out of the water and sat himself on the side of the pool, before lying down on his stomach, staring at Keith, lazing in the sun.   
“Blues are immortal...right? How do you feel about that?”   
Lance's expression didn't change at all. Keith didn't want to be a blue, living forever, it must get old, and it must suck, living way past your friends, watching them grow old, while you stayed the same. It must get lonely.   
“I don't think about that, I'd much rather live in the moment, y'know? Right now, I'm feelin' pretty good.”   
Keith started to think that nothing in this world would make him upset, after all, his first reaction to being a blue, according to Hunk, was to distance himself in case he turned against his friends, but not distant enough where he couldn't be with them. He was a real family man at heart, the exact opposite of Keith. He quickly pushed himself up and rolled onto his back, his arm shading over his eyes, and his head next to Lance's. It was a beautiful day.

 

The first stars were starting to shine when they wrapped it up, but only after Keith had fallen asleep in the sun and rolled into the pool, and Lance laughed the whole time at his suffering. Keith groaned and snorted the water out of his nose when Lance tapped his shoulder.   
“You lookin at this?”   
Keith stood up and turned around, and the sight was beautiful. The clouds were like cotton candy, and the sky was painted with shades of pinks and peach, spliced with golden streaks. It was enough to take his breath away, and he had no words. Orange light turned the hills closest to them a blueish colour, the edges tinged with the orange light, and the red roof of the house was almost glowing in the soft light.   
“Yeah, we better get goin'.”   
Keith had to agree, especially if Lance was cooking tonight, they didn't want to keep the others waiting. He climbed up the pool ladder and toweled off briskly, grabbing his clothes and wrapping them into a long shape around his shoes, slinging it over his shoulder as he climbed down the side of the hill, Lance already a few feet below him, and his bare feet got a better grip on the dirt and rock. It was faster getting down than going up, about half the time, and Lance was already waiting for him at the bottom.   
“We can get changed in the house, no biggie.”   
Lance smiled as Keith joined him, and they walked side by side back to the house.   
“I had a lotta fun today. Sure, we weren't doing much, but it was nice.”   
It was nice, and it almost surprised Keith, all they did was spent the whole day in some fifties pool in the hills, with only each other for company, but it was fun, just talking, swimming, tolerating each other's existence. Something low key and quiet.   
“Yeah, I guess. I actually don't hate you.”   
Nailed it.   
“I knew you'd come around.”   
Lance opened the door with his elbow, holding it open for Keith, to the sounds of talking and laughing. When they stepped into the lounge room, the talking died down, and all eyes were on them. There were more than two voices in the room.   
“Keith?”   
A voice Keith hadn't heard in so long made a lump form in his throat. Shiro was sitting upright on the couch, gauze wrapped all around his bare torso, and he looked surprised, then he smiled and shook his head in disbelief.   
“It is you, Keith?”    
Shiro stood up and shrugged. Keith had no words, but charged into his chest, his arms reaching around his in a hug, firm, but not enough to hurt his wounded back. Keith felt at home when he felt strong arms hug him back, and Shiro's face rest on his hair. It had been so long, way too long.    
“How's mum?”   
Keith finally pulled back, still holding onto his arms. It felt odd, with one of his hands around warm metal.    
“I have no idea, I'm sorry. She missed you though, after you left, she said it felt odd having just one son.”   
Keith didn't want to pester him too much, right now, it felt good just to have the man he considered his brother back.   
“Wow, you've changed a lot. When did you get this tall?”   
“Says you.”   
Shiro looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Lance.   
“Lance, you haven't changed much.”   
Lance didn't even have a retort, but he took a few steps towards Shiro and hugged him as well.    
“Good to have you back.”   
Shiro looked up at Keith.    
“Yeah, it's good to be back.”

  
Lance made even more potato fritters, so much that they had leftovers, keeping them on a plate covered with a cloth. Keith also found himself wandering into Hunks room. He hoped that what Lance said about Hunk not minding people wandering in was true.   
“Keith, how are ya?”   
“Hey Hunk, I just wanted to ask something.”   
“Yeah? Ask away.”   
Keith stared at the wall at that one particular drawing of the lions, the red one especially, how it was like gravity pulling him in.   
“I'd like to ask about a tattoo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far, tell me what you think as kudos and compliments/complaints are my lifeblood and my main motivation to continue this. I still take prompts/requests on my tumblr! gingernutting.tumblr.com


	3. Got Plenty of Tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I am tired, so the ages may not make that much sense as I got no sense of time.

 

The next morning Keith found himself outside, lying on the lavender couch on his stomach, his right forearm on Hunk's lap as he drew his design on with a purple felt tip.  _ “No peeking!”  _ he said, so Keith had his face  planted onto the plush fabric, his feet and shins resting on the arm of the couch. It tickled a little, the motions of the pen on his arm. Even though the hair on his arms was thin, but dark, Hunk still made an effort to shave off the area where the tattoo would be.    
“Okay, you can look now.”   
Keith sat up and opened his eyes. Hunk had this goofy smile on his face and his fingers were tapping together in anticipation. Keith didn't keep him waiting and reviewed it. It was stunning, to say the least, even without colour on it. The lion had soft eyes, but its nose was slightly scrunched and its lip was curled at the corner to reveal the tips of its teeth, like it was looking at something with mock disapproval. It had the same markings as the other lion tattoos, with some small additions. It had a look of pride in it's pose, claws out and stepping forwards like a cat, similar to the pose that Pidge had.   
“How much do I pay you? Trade you?”   
Hunk shook his head.   
“Don't worry about it, though some help with cleanin' and chores would be nice.”   
“That's fair.   
Hunk nodded and pulled up the metal box from next to his feet, and it was filled it inks and needles wrapped in plastic, as well as alcohol wipes and gloves.   
“Where did you get all this?”   
“Most of it belonged to me, but things like needles and inks I get from tradin' in the city. Not the Rascal's city, but there's another one a two day drive west. It's sorta like a 'survivor's trading hub', we take trade things like small gadgets, baking and jasper, and when I can, tattoos, for food, supplies, tool, yadda yadda.”   
“Wait, how do you guys get jasper?”   
Jasper was a mineral, a very beautiful stone, but Keith couldn't see any mines around here.   
“There's a deposit of it up in the hills, take a pick with you, and you get yourselves a few handfuls. Lance normally does that. He takes it and drills holes in it, makes the cord all by himself as well, and turns it into pendants and necklaces. He's gotten pretty good at it too, give him a handful of the stones, a drill and some sandpaper and polish, and you've got yourself a charm.”   
Hunk explained as he mixed the inks into little cups, making a cherry red, a pearly white, and a golden yellow. There were even ratios written on a notepad for the colours folded up between the inks. It was quite beautiful, how these guys had made a life for themselves, inventing and crafting and just doing stuff. It was everyday life for them, but to Keith, it was a wonderful little thing. Domestic.    
“Okay, have you ever been stung by a bee?”   
“Yeah?”   
“This will hurt a bit, like being stung by a baby bee.”   
Keith nodded and laid back down, giving Hunk his arm back as he dipped his needle gun into the ink and steadied it onto Keith's arm. The buzz filled the air, as it did in fact feel like a bunch of tiny bees on his arm. It stung, but not enough to wince at it.    
“Tell me about Lance.”   
Keith deadpanned. Listening to anything but the gun helped the pain he found.   
“Lance? We've know each other since we were kids. He had a big family, he had like two brothers, one big and one little, and three sisters, two little, one big. His mum, Rosa, was a second mother to me. Man, she could cook really well, her enchiladas were amazing. They were originally from Cuba, and they went back for a couple of weeks every year. Me and Lance have always been tight, hell, he was the one who basically dragged me over to that tattoo parlour to apply for an apprenticeship when I was too scared, thinkin' I wasn't good enough, and it went out a lot better than I expected, I owe him a lot for that, y'know what I mean?”   
It was a sunny morning, and it was already very warm and very light, even for a quarter past nine, it was like the sun was peaking at midday early. Keith heard footsteps and Shiro walked out, noticing the two and leaning over to take a look.   
“Huh, Keith you didn't tell me you wanted a tattoo!”   
“I thought about it long and hard.”   
“How long exactly?”   
“Five minutes.”   
Shiro chuckled and said a quick hello to Hunk.   
“Looks pretty good though, suits you.”   
Hunk made a look that showed how flattered he was.    
“Anyone up for coffee or tea?”   
“Yeah, you Hunk?”   
“I'll have whatever Keith's havin'.”   
Shiro winked at them and walked back in, the sound of a jug boiling echoed through the house. His lioness now had her face completely inked out, the markings were tinged lightly with blue, and she had a much more vibrant blue in the spots of what had to be bioluminescence around her chin, cheeks and ears.   
“Want a break? Or can you push through it?”   
“Keep goin'.”   
Keith persisted, and the tingle of the needle in his arm put his mind at ease.   
“Tell me about Pidge.”   
“Pidge? She came in after me and Lance were officially best buds. I actually don't know how she became our friend, like, she was so many years younger, she was five I think, we were like fourteen, but we liked her company. She was pretty cool, and she wasn't annoying like all the other five year olds. We got odd looks, a couple of fourteen year old boys hanging out with a tiny five year old girl, but we had a lot of fun, hell, she literally grew up before our eyes. We may have stopped counting the years a while ago, but who cares? Pidge is one of us.”

Hunk smiled as he worked. Keith had to note that Hunk had a gift for this sort of thing, actually no, it was art. He was obviously very dedicated to it as well, to keep it up even in this...predicament. Lance wasn't in the house at all when Keith woke up. Knowing him, he probably didn't even sleep. Keith used to have insomnia, it kept him up for days on end, whenever he craved sleep, he'd get none, but just completely losing himself out in the desert helped it. Being free helped it.   
“Heys guys, it's a little hot, just gotta warn ya.”   
Hunk leaned back in the set, pulling the needle away from Keith's skin and nodded a thanks at Shiro, who handed him a mug of coffee.   
“Pidge remembered how you liked yours, Keith. How long have you been here for?”   
Shiro handed him a mug, pulling up a chair next to Hunk for himself.   
“Same time as you. How've you been, anyway?”   
Shiro shrugged.   
“Better than being in the city, that's for sure.”   
He laughed bitterly and took a mouthful.   
“No, really, it's way better here. You guys are great. Funny, how even with all this, I still had the luck to be found by you guys.”   
Hunk lightly punched his shoulder.   
“Yeah, it's a pity about the tattoo I gave ya. Man, what they did to scrape it off your back...what went on in there?”   
Keith also glanced up at Shiro, and he almost looked uncomfortable, all eyes on him, as he stared at his right hand. The prosthetic was...messy, to say the least. It reminded Keith of that Terminator movie, like a metal skeleton with wires haphazardly threaded into it.   
“Don't remember...But Pidge says she's gonna try and make this a lot neater though. It's pretty amazing, really, it's a lot like I didn't lose my hand at all, apart from how it's sometimes a bit jerky and slow, it's pretty neat.”   
Keith had to smile at that. Always look on the bright side, was what Shiro told him many years ago.    
“Well, you're now, so let's just live in the moment for a bit. That, and gettin' some more of this done would make my day.”   
“Oh! Sorry!”   
Hunk smiled and got back to pressing the needle into Keith's skin. Pidges' voice yelled down the hallway, and Shiro took that as his cue to leave, leaving the two in silence, Hunk humming a small tune.   
“Tell me about yourself, Keith.”   
He stated after a while.   
“Well, there's not a lot to know. Before you guys took my sorry ass, I had it pretty good, out in the desert, sorta like what you have, a small shack I did up. It was nowhere near as to what you guys have, I mean, all I did was duct tape the holes in the ceiling, but hey, beggers can't be choosers.”   
Keith glanced up at Hunk, who nodded for him to go on.   
“I wasn't like you guys, all creative and doin' stuff, no, I just enjoyed lookin' through the outskirts of the city, goin' as far as my bike took me.”   
“Like a scooter or?”   
“Motorbike, a beautiful Honda Magna, it was red too. I didn't even care where I was goin', I just...rode. It was peaseful, driving out in the desert, way out into the night, stumbling across other abandoned homes and towns, scavenging, then movin' on. Sometimes I was out for days at a time, just on that bike just goin' anywhere the tires went.”   
“You miss it?”   
“I miss bein' free.”   
Keith wished he couldve bitten his tongue, Hunk didn't say anything but continued on his tattoo.   
“I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I like you guys, you're not too much...I just miss bein' on that bike, that feelin' of freedom you get.”   
“Hey, no hard feelings man, I understand.”   
“You do?”   
Hunk made eye contact with him, and made that sort-of laugh where you just blow through your nostrils, amused.   
“Yeah. That ute? She's my baby, it was liberating doing what you did, just driving, not caring where you go. We did that a lot after the clusterfuck happened. We drove a lot. We lived in Arizona, though Lance and I came from Cuba and Samoa, respectively, and we drove out here. I remember, when they slept in the back, and it was dark, I would sometimes just pull up the the clifftops, and just watch the stars. Whenever I'm homesick, I just watch the stars, dunno why, but it feels nice to know that even though I'm a long long way from the beaches and the sun, we all live under the same stars.”   
That is a nice thought, to know that the stars are always with you, wherever you are, even if you can't always see them, we all live under the same clusters of stars in the sky.   
“What about you? You born in America? Shiro was your foster brother, right?”   
“He's my foster brother, yeah, for a while. From what I know, from him and his mother, he was born in Japan, and him and his mother moved here after his father died, when he was five years old. I actually dunno when I got orphaned...I-I was born in South Korea, I don't remember it that much though...just like flashbacks? Like, pictures and sounds? It's weird, memories like that. They didn't not want me, they died in a car accident, from my records. I was with my grandmother at the time. Apparently she fought hard to keep me, she was very old and frail, and social services took me away instead. I was a bastard kid-"   
“Hey, I'm sure you weren't-"   
“No, I was. I spent a lot of time in Australia, that was where I was first taken, to some family. I was a lil' shit for the five years I was there; disobedient, aggressive, I was really quiet around the other kids, but one wrong move, and bang, they'd have a fresh new bruise. I didn't have any friends, but I didn't care. They wanted me out, so I was sent to another one, this home in Sydney. They didn't want me either, with me attackin' the other kids, being anti-social, until they got a call from America, a family wanted to foster me for a while, so I was shooed out, dumped on a plane, then dumped in Oregon. It turned out to be the best few years of my life. Shiro and his Mother, her name was Aiko I think, I jus' called her mum, were the only family I ever fit into. Shiro was the best brother I could ever ask for, and Aiko was the best mother I could ever ask for. She even said she had two sons, not just one. They were the ones to  _ really  _ break that shell around me, and when someone took interest in actually adoptin' me, half a decade later...I-I just...never seemed to fit back in.”   
Keith took a shaky breath and bit his lip, heart pounding in his chest, he couldn't even believe he said all that to someone he barely knew. Hunk just seemed like the kinda guy you could vent and talk to like that, and he actually listened through it all.   
“Wow.”   
Hunk finally breathed, the silence settling back as the whirr of the needle took over their ears.   
“Hey Hunk? Thanks for listenin'.”   
Hunk didn't look at him, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.   
“Not a problem, my friend.”   
_ Friend.  _ Hunk considered him a  _ friend.  _ That was all Keith could ever ask for. It felt nice, not many people had ever called him their friend before. Hunk continued his work in silence, but it was the sort of peaceful silence that wasn't awkward or uncomfortable.    
  
“Okay...what do ya think?”

It took a few hours for the tattoo to be completed, and Keith brought his arm up, staring at it mesmerized. It was gorgeous. He had never had a tattoo before, but if he got any others, none of them would outshine this one.   
“It's...wonderful. Thank you, Hunk.”   
Hunk cupped his hand and wrapped what looked like cling wrap around his forearm.   
“Okay, you gotta keep this on for a while, but it should be healed after a couple of days.”   
Keith smiled lopsidedly and ran his fingers over the plastic.    
“C'mere.”   
Hunk pulled him in for a warm hug, pulling him close before releasing him.   
“Go inside and show the others! Do it!”   
Hunk sang and pushed him inside the the house, and at once Shiro and Pidge were on him.   
“Hey, it's like mine! Okay, but yours is pretty cool.”   
Pidge held out her own arm next to his, comparing the two. The lions had a lot in common, just like how they were on the drawing on Hunks' wall.    
“Suits ya, you little lion.”   
Shiro tousled his hair, and he couldn't even be mad at him.   
“Wait, where's Lance?”   
Pidge shrugged.   
“Lookin' for jasper. We're heading over to the markets in a few days, he wanted to get some more stuff to trade.”   
Keith nodded. It made Keith wonder what Lance could want.    
“He'll be back soon though, don't worry.”   
Pidge reassured him and adjusted her glasses, flopping back down on the couch with her laptop perched on her lap, in the middle of Keith and Shiro. Keith couldn't help but be a bit nosy, staring at a black screen with white coding running down it, the woman's fingers tapping at the speed of sound.   
“So what are you codin' exactly?”   
She turned to Keith with this look on her face, almost quivering with excitement.   
“Well I'm glad you asked! Just a lil' something to compress storage in the computer files, so you can fit a whole lot more in! If this is successful, I came compress fifty gigabytes down to just eight kilobytes!”   
Now, Keith was sure he had heard something about it for sure.   
“So you're recreating the Sloot Digital Coding System? Right?”   
Pidge was shaking with excitement.   
“Yes! You know about that too!”   
“Yeah, I am still a hundred percent sure we was assassinated, like, he had everything goin' for him, he wouldn't just die of a heart attack at a healthy age, now, would he?”    
“Gotta agree, and the Ogle Carburetor? I swear he was also assassinated by the oil companies, but his invention still lives on. Why else would gas be the least of our worries when driving?”   
She winked at him and grinned like the cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.   
“Wait, the van, so you-"   
“Me and Hunk were inspired by it, and we built our own form of it, even better if we say so ourselves.”   
The Ogle Carburetor, Keith remembered from one night of staying up way too late on Wikipedia, was a world changing invention, that could go drive from Deming to El Paso all the way in Texas with just one gallon of fuel.    
“So you guys are into that sorta stuff.”   
Shiro noted, listening in to their conversation.   
“Pidge, how are you and Hunk not at the world's top universities?”   
“Well, that whole zombie shitstorm happened I guess.”   
“True, and I am also certain that you guys are geniuses.”   
Pidge looked quite smug when he said that.   
“Thanks Keith, but I have to know, what is your stanza on 9/11?”   
“Oh parts of it were definitely an inside job. The plane that hit the Pentagon? If it completely disintegrated, how could they have the bodies of all the passengers identified by their fingerprints?”   
“Yep, we're gonna get along just peachy.”   
Shiro was shaking his head, probably wondering how he got stuck with two avid conspiracy theorists. Keith just laid back on the couch and watched Pidge work.

 

Lance didn't come home until incredibly late. When Keith asked the others about it, they just said ' _ he does this a lot _ ', they would go out looking for him if he wasn't back by morning. Shiro had already claimed the spare room, he offered it to Keith, but Keith persisted that he didn't need it, and instead stayed on the couch waiting for Lance. It wasn't until around midnight, did he go back to Lance's room. Lance let him stay in his bed last night, and it was just until he got back home, then he would move back out onto the couch. Keith kicked off his shoes, staying in his own black shirt and Lance's borrowed shorts, and crawled into bed, curled up on the mattress with the window open, he quickly fell asleep. He didn't even notice Lance crawl into bed next to him during the night. He discovered it in the morning though. When the sunlight shining into his closed eyes eventually annoyed him enough to arouse him, Keith almost panicked when he felt something against his back, and an arm around his chest, light snoring muffled by Lance's face pressed between his shoulder blades. Keith realised with a sinking feeling that Lance was spooning him in his sleep. Oh god. If he just carefully lifted his arm off him...no that didn't work, as Lance's grip only got tighter and he pulled him closer. At least he wore clothes to bed tonight, at the shack he had a habit of sleeping naked. That and he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt that Lance had a tank top and shorts on. There was no other option, he was being held prisoner in here, even if it was almost comforting, he was being held prisoner all the same. Keith froze when the arm started moving, gripping his shirt and patting his chest, before snapping away from him as if it just got stung.

“Ah! Keith! I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryy-"   
Lance flinched and sat bolt upright, and he was blushing blue. It was almost worrisome, seeing him so panicked, but it had this certain kind of adorableness to it as well.   
“No, it's fine, I was the one sleepin' in your bed, it should be me who's sorry!”   
“Sorry for what?”   
Pidge's voice yelled back at them, and they could both hear her laughter. Lance groaned and rubbed his eyes.   
“Get a soundproof room you goddamn lovebirds!”   
“But we didn't even...ugh.”   
Lance whined back at her, throwing his head back like a child who had just been told he had to do the dishes. Keith was gay, he knew that, but he wasn't all out there about it, and though Lance was growing onto him, he wasn't interested in him in that way. Lance was nice to have around, even if they didn't see eye-to-eye on everything, he liked his company. It was funny to him that Pidge saw them like that.   
“Should we go have breakfast?”   
“Yeah, remind me to pour arsenic in her coffee.”   
Keith smiled and rolled out of bed, this was his third day here, and already he was becoming attached to the people here. Keith knew he was going back to the shack, hopefully reclaim his motorbike and continue living the way he did, though he was tempted to move on and find another place. He wasn't entirely sure about Shiro though, Shiro said nothing about moving out after his back healed, if he did indeed move out, Keith would offer for Shiro to live with him, as him and his brother had a lot of catching up to do. Maybe even go and look for Aiko, see if she was still around. Keith didn't want to become too attached to the people here, and already he failed step one. That, and he wanted to stay a bit more to help out to cover the cost of his tattoo.    
“You hungry? You can help me cook this mornin', whatdoya say?”   
Keith was never the best cook, maybe Lance could teach him a thing or two.   
“Yeah, I have a master's in burnin' food though.”   
“Nah, there's no-one I haven't been able to teach!”

Lance sprang up and shuffled over to the edge of the bed, jumping off and waiting for Keith to roll his lazy ass out of the sheets.   
“So what were you thinkin' of cookin'?”   
“Well, there's some ripe tomatoes outside, maybe we could cook some of those up with herbs and toast.”   
Keith followed Lance outside, their bare feet in the dust, as Lance guided them over to the side of the house, where a small vege patch was growing, a lot of herbs such as oregano, thyme and basil had cast a refreshing scent over the place, a few rows of tall corn, carrots and potatoes in the ground, and a tomato vine was curled around a mesh wall up the side of the house. So that explains where they got half of their food from.   
“This is a nice one, feel that.”   
Lance reached up the vine and plucked one, it was large and fit into his hand, red and ripe and soft.   
“What did you inject into these to make 'em grow like that?”   
“Just a lotta sun and love, I guess. All those hours out here paid off!”   
Keith stood on the tips of his toes and reached up for another one, slightly smaller with yellow spots on the top, but it still looked good enough to eat. They only needed four, and Lance grabbed a few handfuls of herbs, also grabbing a few mint leaves for them to chew on, before heading back inside. Keith watched Lance whistle as he searched for a suitable frypan, raiding the cupboards until he pulled out one, with a burnt handle wrapped up in duct tape and a blackened base. It was almost amusing to Keith, how the thing hadn't fallen apart yet.    
“See that cupboard? Right there? There's a can of oil, can y'get that?”   
Lance gestured to a cupboard next Keith's feet, and he bent down, opening it gently and found the can, rectangle shaped with a retro woman pin up on the label. Lance was already cutting one tomato in half, sprinkling oregano and thyme onto the halves.  
“okay, you do the other ones!”  
Lance traded the board and knife for Keith’s oil, and Keith inspected the way Lance started to fry the halves gently, humming as he worked. It was almost calming to watch, and he didn't even know he was zoned out before Lance waved a hand in front of his face.   
“Wakey, wakey, you in there Keith?”   
Keith blinked and flinched.   
“Yeah, sorry, just woozy.”   
“Don't worry, Pidge hates the smell of gas too.”   
At least Lance didn't pressure him about it, and he turned his attention to cutting the fruit in halves, sprinkling the fleshy part with the herbs before handing it over to the blue boy, who thanked him and opened a drawer behind him with his foot.    
“Mind gettin' the spatula in there?”   
Keith sighed and grabbed it, metal that was slightly blackened and with the handle also wrapped up in black duct tape, and he got to stand next to Lance, prodding at the cooking fruit until Lance gave him the all clear to flip them. It took a few tries, but ten minutes later, ten minutes filled with small encouragements and praise, two halves were finally cooked.   
“You cook the other ones, I'll take these to Hunk. You're doin' pretty well!”   
Lance lightly elbowed Keith's side and whistled as he walked the plate outside, leaving Keith to cook. It was soothing, the sizzling and pop of oil, and the smell of herbs. He flipped the halves over when the smell became overpowering, and they were slightly burnt, but in a tasteful way. Lance leaned over Keiths' shoulder and took a deep whiff.   
“Smells good! I'll do the others, you have these ones!”   
Lance cupped his hand over Keith's', guiding his hand, and flipped them into a plate.   
“You sure you don't want me to help?”   
Lance shook his head and pushed his back out of the kitchen.   
“Pfff, you can help with dishes, now, eat!”   
“Wait, what!?”   
Lance snickered and continued where Keith left off, he knew there had to be a catch to this.   
“By the way, we're headin' to the markets tomorrow, you wanna come?”   
So those must be the ones Hunk was talking about. A days drive, but Keith didn't want to go back to his shack just yet.   
“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for putting up with this! please give me input, and I always love comments and kudos, which are my main motivation to write. I am still taking prompts and requests @gingernutting.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! Please tell me how I can improve, kudos and comments are my lifeblood, and I take prompts and requests on my tumblr blog @gingernutting, and am always up for a chat!


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